


All The Wars

by orphan_account



Series: An A to Z of Sherlock Songfics [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst, Could be triggering, Gen, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Loads of it, Sherlock - Freeform, suicide warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-28
Updated: 2014-01-28
Packaged: 2018-01-10 10:06:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1158344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on All The Wars, by the Pineapple Thief</p><p>"And all the wars<br/>Come back to me"</p><p>All of his life John has been fighting. A constant war, when one ends another begins. Now, now he cannot fight any more.</p><p>"And if that's all I have?<br/>If that's all I have?<br/>I'll reach a final peace with you"</p>
            </blockquote>





	All The Wars

_And all the wars come back to me_

Three years. It had been three years. Three years since John had lost everyone. The last person he had truly cared about, the last person he had been close to. It seemed that all his life he had been fighting. But now it was over. He was sick of the war.

 _And no one is moving till the end of our days_  

It had been his dad first. His alcoholic father who had killed himself in a car accident. John had only been seven, nothing more than a boy, and suddenly he was the man in the house. A young boy with an already alcoholic older sister and a sick, grief stricken mother. From there it had gotten better, if only for a while. Then there had been the army. An actual war. So many deaths, so many injuries that he had to deal with. And then he too had almost left the world. Truly, he wished he had that day so many years ago.

_No crying, no fall out, just the darkest of days_

Then there had been Sherlock. Brilliant, intelligent, beautiful Sherlock. He was a genius. He truly was. The greatest mind in the world. The only consulting detective in the world. And John had been his blogger. Those years had been brilliant. The best of his life. Sherlock had been his best friend. Always would be, really. London may have been a battlefield when John was with Sherlock, but at least for once he had a purpose. The two just clicked. Maybe it was some strange form of love, maybe it was something else. John would never know. Because then he happened. Jim Moriarty. First the pool, John being kidnapped and the two of them almost dying. After that John thought there would be peace. But Moriarty was not done. No, he was not done until Sherlock jumped of the roof of St Bart's. And once again John was fighting alone.

_And all the wars come back to me_

It took John years to recover. He never truly did. He tried to move on, met Mary, got engaged. Two years he lived in his own personal hell with little relief. Mary helped, if only a little. Then he returned. Sherlock. Who had never really been dead. It had all be an elaborate plan to foil Moriarty. Eventually John forgave Sherlock. Once again helped him with crimes. Sherlock was even the best man at his wedding with Mary. John had two people he knew he could depend on, two people to help him through it all. They helped him deal with Harry's death when she went too far with the drinking. Everything was fine. It should have been fine. Because Sherlock promised that he would never,  ever leave John like that again.

_I am still fighting to find out a way_

John remembered the thrill of the chase. The great times he had while solving cases and the terrible ones he had dealing with Sherlock's boredom. He remembered Sherlock's black curls, his eyes of so many colours that it was impossible to name them. He remembered the look on those pale, finely made features as he died. As the light flickered out of the eyes and a brilliant mind was lost. It was Sherlock's fault. John hated him for it. Going out without him, chasing after a killer without leaving so much as a note for John. They had found him, eventually. But by then it was too late. Sherlock had taken a bullet to the heart and it was only a matter of making his passing peaceful. For the second time he had left John. This time never to return.

_The promise, your promise, from wishing away_

At least he had had Mary. But losing Sherlock once had been a blow. Losing him a second time, well... It killed John. He slowly began to crumble away. Only Mary held him together. When she was diagnosed with terminal cancer he knew that he was losing a war. It was only a year after Sherlock's death that she too passed away.

_And all the wars come back to me_

So many deaths, so many casualties. John was tired of it all, of every breath being a fight and every day a battle. He had lost. He wasn't fighting anymore. No, it was over.  It had been over for so long. He remembered them all, the ones who had left him. Had helped repair him in the first place only to cause his demise. 

_And all the wars come back to me_

Today, John ended the war.

_I'll reach a final peace with you_


End file.
